


To Be Alone with You

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: And the Sky Will Burn [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Cheating, Dragon Age Related, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Infidelity, Modern Imperium, Modern Thedas, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, POV Original Male Character, Shameless Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age), The Author Regrets Nothing, discussion of divorce, fast burn, related to another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: “How did you meet?”“Um,” Abigail began, and she looked at John before she giggled. “Well, I - I was a student at Minrathous U, and -”“I was giving a speech at a donor event, a scholarship foundation set up by my family,” John continued for her. It seemed to be a well-rehearsed event, flowing naturally as they jumped back and forth to tell it.Background one shot of how Abby and John met in my Modern Thedas AUs,Your Arms Feel Like Home(co-written withdismalzelenka) andLovers & Dreamers.
Relationships: OC/OC, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: And the Sky Will Burn [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1112292
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	To Be Alone with You

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea kicking around and decided to go ahead and get it out of my head. Has nothing to do with canon so I didn't throw it into the DA tag, but it does take place in Modern Tevinter Imperium.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy a smutty one shot <3
> 
> xx,  
> Lara
> 
> Title from ["To Be Alone" by Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcDxk9CSTo8)

The applause was dying down finally, and he gave a small wave of his hand as he made his way across the stage.

All he wanted was a drink. His throat was dry after his lengthy speech, and the lights had caused him to sweat slightly beneath his crisp wool suit. Adjusting his sleeves as he descended the stage, he met a few eyes in the front row and nodded politely while he scanned for the bar. A few of the professors held their hands out to him, and he shook them as he muttered brief thanks, still trying to make his way through the aisles.

He had just reached the ballroom beyond the auditorium and spied the bar when he heard a soft, posh voice call out over the din of the crowd making their way behind him.

“Lord Rullus! Excuse me, excuse — my lord, do you have a moment?”

Biting back the sigh he longed to give, he turned to find a young woman weaving her way toward him. There was a determined look in her gaze that transfixed him, and he raised one eyebrow as he watched her approach. Letting his eyes slide over her figure, he realized it was more than that which made him pause.

She was wearing heels but was still tiny compared to him, though she carried herself in such a way that it was easy to overlook her meager height. Her dark hair looked beautiful in the golden light of the ballroom, the loose waves framing her face shimmering as she moved. The rest was gathered into a loose chignon, baring her slim neck and the low square neckline of her black dress. It had puffy, lace sleeves that gathered just beneath her shoulders, the effect quite playfully feminine.

He took in the sight of long legs bared by the short skirt before he slowly raised his eyes back up to hers, meeting her twinkling, dark chocolate depths. Clearing his throat, he straightened his tie and offered her a winning smile.

“Yes, miss…?”

“Abby Henderson,” she introduced herself. She held out a dainty hand, nails painted a glossy black and her fingers bedecked in several thin rings. “I’m a reporter with the school paper, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions?”

John accepted her hand, noticing the slight tingling cold that clung to her fingers. He absently swiped his thumb over her knuckles, allowing himself a brighter smile as he continued to drink in her attractive appearance.

“A pleasure, Miss Henderson,” he told her as he released her hand. A slight frown came to his face as he considered her smirk. “Henderson? Are you from the Marches, by chance?”

Her eyebrows rose and she blinked for a moment before she nodded. “I — yes, I am. Originally my family is from Kirkwall, but when things...well. Let’s just say I’m better off in the Imperium.”

_A mage._

The implication was clear, and he considered for a moment until the name clicked.

_Henderson — perhaps, Michael Henderson?_

John opened his mouth, but before he could get the words out he found Miss Henderson squaring her shoulders as she leveled him with a serious glare.

“I was hoping to ask you a few questions,” she began. Instead of waiting for permission, though, she met his gaze and smirked. “Such as: how can you justify such a swanky event to cater to your own ego, using scholarship funds to have a night celebrating yourself and your family’s name? How many students could this event have helped attend Minrathous U if you had let the money stay in the foundation?”

He raised an eyebrow once more as he took in the fierce gleam in her eyes, and lowered his to see her holding a small tape recorder in one hand. Chuckling softly to himself, he turned to the bar to catch the bartender’s attention as he mulled over his answer.

“What would you like to drink, Miss Henderson?” John asked.

“I — um, well, I suppose I’ll take a glass of champagne.” She frowned when he turned over his shoulder to offer her a nod and a smile. “But if you simply don’t want to answer —”

“I’ll answer, just give me a moment. There’s no reason we can’t chat over a drink.” He passed along their order to the bartender, and then withdrew the coins to pay for them — and tip generously.

After he had accepted their drinks, he turned back to her and gestured to a small high-top nearby. He led her over and then passed her drink to her, taking a sip of his MacKay’s before he offered her another smile.

“Where did you get your sources?”

Something changed and she shifted on her feet, looking cagey. “Um —”

“Ah, I see,” he mused, and he nodded as he contemplated the amber liquid in his glass. “Well, Miss Henderson, I can see why you would make the assumptions you have. After all, these events usually are covered by the foundation hosting them. But if you’ve looked into myself or my family you’d know we don’t need a foundation to put on an event of this...well, relatively modest caliber.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked around the glitzy ballroom, at the waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. “Is that so?” she mused slowly. “Tell me, then. If you’d care to enlighten me, Lord Rullus.”

The way she pronounced his name was a challenge, and for a moment he lost himself in studying the curve of her pink lips. Her cheek had a small dimple in it from the way she was smirking at him, holding his gaze as she waited for him to answer.

There was something about her that captivated him, a spark that drew him in until he felt almost blinded by her. He smiled, again, and wondered when the last time was that he had spent so much time offering someone genuine smiles instead of guarded things, half-truths to maintain politeness.

“The caterers you see were hired by me personally. There’s a cash bar, tips for the bartenders and the rest to help fund the foundation. I didn’t take a fee to speak; after all, I spoke on the foundation and its work. I don’t need payment to explain the Rullus family’s devotion to Minrathous U.” He smirked when he finished, noticing the way her lips parted as she listened to his explanations. 

“And the entire point of this event was to encourage others to donate, and I believe if you look behind you, below the gold lettering that says Rullus Hall, you’ll see people with their checkbooks out.”

She cleared her throat and glanced over her shoulder surreptitiously. Picking up her flute of champagne she drained it in one gulp, then took a moment before she raised her gaze to his once more. “All right, my lord.” Her eyes wandered over his face for a long moment, and then she returned his smile. “I suppose I should apologize for the assumptions I made. You can’t blame me, though. These events are usually just a chance to prove whose is bigger.”

He laughed at that, another genuine thing, full-bodied and bright. She joined him, giggling as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Well, and I suppose I should apologize as well, Miss Henderson.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Seems I got in the way of a juicy story for you.”

A slow smile spread across her face as she took in his words, but then she cleared her throat and glanced to the side. “Maybe the student body will be happy for once to hear that someone wasn’t being selfish. It seems to happen so rarely, after all.”

John gave a sad smile and nodded, looking away from her to once again contemplate the amber liquid in his glass. He didn’t know the last time he had been allowed to be wholly selfish, keeping himself under strict control and working hard to maintain appearances. His family never demanded it outright, but he knew the expectations they held for him, still. After all these years, simply because he was not a mage.

To his surprise, she remained at his side, chatting easily with him. She had long since turned the tape recorder off and returned it to her clutch, and he had accepted another glass of champagne for her when a waiter passed by. There was something so carefree about her, despite the determined way she had first approached him, and little by little he found himself relaxing into her presence.

His marriage was falling apart, though neither of them were willing to admit it. Admitting it would mean disappointing families, having to deal with failed expectations for both of them. Constance was traveling, and as he took a moment to speak with a donor who had approached him he realized he didn’t even know where she was at present.

Instead, he found a beautiful, intriguing young woman by his side. She waited as he finished his other conversations, and then would resume making comments about the crowd, asking him questions about himself and his speech. He was fascinated by her in turn, asking about her degree and studies, what she planned to do with them.

“I was born in Kirkwall, but when they continued to pass resolutions restricting mage freedoms, my parents began to worry. I had only just begun to show my magic, and they — well, eventually they decided it wasn’t safe,” she explained when he asked her why she had chosen journalism. “They sought asylum in the Imperium, and we’ve been here ever since. But I still hear about everything going on in the Marches, and elsewhere, and I — I want to get the truth out there. I want people to pay attention.”

“That’s very admirable, Miss Henderson,” he told her, unable to resist the way he felt so thoroughly impressed by her. “I have to ask, your last name — are you by any chance related to the artist, Michael Henderson?”

She smirked at that, a twinkle in her eye. “He’s my father.”

“I — I suppose I should have realized,” he answered slowly. “I’m a great admirer of his work and his activism.”

“You and everyone else in the Imperium,” she agreed, but there was no hint of bitterness in how she said it. Instead she was smiling softly, as if she was proud.

The activism and art made sense now, looking at the grown daughter of an artist outspoken about the treatment of mages. He thought he remembered reading in an interview that Henderson had been a political asylum seeker, and he studied the daughter that a comfortable life in Kirkwall had been given up for.

He didn’t like to even think about what might have happened to her if she had stayed in Kirkwall, and wondered at the feeling surging through his chest. She continued to fascinate him until the event was winding down and he said hurried goodbyes to attendees and organizers alike.

As he began to make his way out of the ballroom, he found her walking at his side.

“So, do I take it you still have a story?” he asked as he slipped his hands in his pockets, leisurely making his way down the empty hallways.

“I do,” she told him, and shot him a quick smile. “And don’t worry, it won’t ruin your reputation. Too much.”

Their laughter felt comfortable, and he continually glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was keeping pace with him, hands clasped around her clutch before herself, looking perfectly at ease. Or so he thought, until she bit her lower lip again and glanced sidelong at him as if hoping he wouldn’t catch her studying him.

His heart tripped over itself as he vaguely wondered if she was equally taken by him. This feeling was so unfamiliar to him he couldn’t tell if it was because it was new or if he had just forgotten it. He and Constance had been fond of one another, but he wasn’t certain it had ever come close to love or true affection, even. And the dalliances he had had over the years, the ones he had allowed himself, hadn’t made him feel anything close to this level of desire.

She wasn’t just gorgeous, she was — captivating. Interesting.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling drawn to someone like this before.

They were passing along one of the lecture halls, and on impulse he grasped her elbow and pulled her after him. He tried the door handle and it turned, granting them access before he closed it quickly behind them.

Impulse was something he avoided, he never allowed himself to indulge it. Something about her, though…

He had her against the wall before she could say anything, pinning her to the stone as he tilted her face up with his thumb beneath her jaw. Her lips tasted like the champagne she had been sipping, and he shuddered slightly when she opened her mouth to him. One of her hands slid up his chest, and he worried for a moment she would push him away — he hadn’t thought to ask first —

Instead he found her hand slipping around the nape of his neck, her fingers trailing through the hair on the back of his head as she let out a soft moan.

Sliding the hand he’d had on her waist to her shoulder, he tugged impatiently at one sheer sleeve, eager to get at the skin underneath. There was the hint of an outline on her skin, and he wanted — needed — to see it, for a reason he couldn’t fully comprehend. The sight of the watercolor Crystal Grace atop her shoulder tugged at something within him, and he trailed his kisses down her neck until he was nipping at the tattoo. Running his tongue over it he tightened his hold on her, noticing the way she was leaning back and gasping softly as he continued to lavish his attention on her delicate neck and shoulder.

A soft moan from her quickly turned into something like a disgruntled whine and she pushed at his shoulders. “Wait — I’m — fasta vass.” She took a deep breath and sought his gaze as he raised his head, matching the frown he gave her.

“You’re — you’re married. I shouldn’t — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you, I shouldn’t have flirted with you —”

“Wait,” he pleaded softly as she tried to push by him as she pulled her sleeve back up. He loosely grasped her arm, silently trying to encourage her to face him once more. “Please, I — let me explain.”

“No, I shouldn’t —”

“We’re not happy,” he blurted out.

She paused and finally glanced over her shoulder at him. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re married.”

“Just listen, please,” he repeated, and he was heartened when she faced him fully once more, though she kept some distance between them. “I don’t even know where she is right now. She’s been traveling for some time, and I know she’ll be home in a few days. We haven’t been together in...months. No, longer than I can remember.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical though she kept her thoughts to herself.

“We — it’s — it’s like we’re playing chicken with our marriage,” he muttered. Standing straight once more he dragged a hand over his mouth, trying to shake the distraction of the taste of her so that he could explain adequately. After considering his words he met her gaze once more, resolute. “There have always been expectations for us, and so we’ve played our roles. But we’re not in love.”

“That still doesn’t — doesn’t mean we should —”

“I have the papers in my desk,” he interrupted, unable to stop himself.

“You what?” Her skepticism was replaced by a bemused frown, and he took a deep breath.

“I’ve been waiting for — something. A sufficient reason, for both of us. Maybe a — a sign. I don’t know. I’ve had them for months, just sitting in my desk, ready to file.” He chanced taking a step closer to her, watching as she simply tilted her head to maintain his gaze. “I can file tomorrow. And I know she’d agree, it wouldn’t take long —”

“Just like that?” Abby queried, her eyebrows raising high on her forehead as she studied him. “Surely you don’t think I’m that gullible.”

“I mean it, Abby,” he assured her, loving the feeling of her name on his tongue. “I think I just needed a sign, and this — I haven’t been a faithful husband, but nothing ever came close to how this feels. I know we just met, and I don’t even know if it would go anywhere —”

“Don’t lie to me,” she interrupted softly, looking down at her feet.

“I’m not, I swear.”

Cautiously she raised her gaze to his, studying him intensely as if trying to decide on something. “Don’t ever lie to me. The moment you do, I’ll walk. If this is just — if this is just you wanting to fuck a college student —”

“It isn’t, I promise,” he swore. Stepping forward he gently took her arms in his hands, stroking her bare skin with his thumbs. “I want you. You’re — this whole evening, I — I can’t remember the last time I smiled so much. The last time I felt so…”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

_Free. Light. Carefree._

_Alive._

Somehow, none of them felt like enough, and he offered her a crooked smile as he cupped her cheek with one hand.

“Myself. I felt — I felt like myself, and I can’t remember the last time I felt like I could just be me.”

“Do you mean it?”

It was the softest whisper, a soft plea from her for the truth again.

“Yes,” he whispered, and when she tilted her head back and parted her lips slightly, he obliged her.

He kissed her tenderly at first, simply tasting her lips in turn before he slipped his tongue between them to flick against hers. His control was easy to maintain, content to simply kiss her after she had accepted his confessions — until she moaned into his mouth and leaned into him.

Her knees were going weak, and she tightened her hold where she held his arm, swaying slightly as he deepened the kiss. He shouldn’t, he should wait to give in, even just until tomorrow after he filed…

“John,” she purred against his lips, “please.”

The word broke the last of his self-control.

In hardly an instant he had her on the table at the front of the lecture hall, leaning over her as he slid his hands up her thighs to push her dress over her hips. She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders in turn, and once he’d thrown it aside she began to work at his tie.

After he slid her panties off he sought her out, and when his fingers easily slid into her he groaned. “So wet, Kitten,” he murmured into her ear. He caught her earlobe with his teeth and curled his fingers within her, stroking her slowly until he felt her thighs tremble on either side of him. “I want to make you purr for me.”

She gasped at the whispered words, and then he felt her eagerly nod her head against his collarbone. “I want — please, I want you to fuck me.”

He was thrilled to hear her confess it, but he pulled his fingers from her as he reached for his wallet. “I can’t remember if I have a condom —”

“Oh, wait, I think I do.” She arched off the table as she searched for the clutch she had set above her head. After searching within it for a moment she pulled a foil wrapper from a small pocket and checked it. “It’s still good.”

John accepted it from her, but he couldn’t resist a frown as he leaned back over her, propping himself on an elbow so he could command her gaze. “Were you expecting someone else tonight?”

Her lips parted at the slight growl in his voice, and after a moment she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. “The last time I used this purse I was still seeing someone. I forgot to take it out.”

“How long ago was that?” He couldn’t resist, a strange surge of jealousy he knew he hadn’t earned swelling in his chest.

“Months ago,” she whispered. Her hands slipped to his hips and she began to try to free him from his slacks. “Please — please, John. I want you.”

Gripping her jaw again with one hand, he held her still as he twisted his mouth against hers, unable to resist making sure she knew, at least for now — she was his.

When she was panting and rolling her hips desperately against him, mewling against the intensity of his kiss he finally relented. He made short work of sliding the condom over himself, taking a moment to tease her by rubbing the tip of his cock along her slit before he slid into the welcome give of her body. A soft cry left her, her nails digging more sharply into where she held one hip and his arm, and then she wrapped her arm around his shoulders to hold him to her.

“Fasta vass,” she groaned. “You feel — _Maker_.”

John twisted one hand into her hair to hold her steady, and resumed the desperation of their kisses as he began moving. He wanted to hold back but couldn’t, still finding himself unable to fight impulse as he snapped his hips into hers again and again. She was so freeing and wonderful, in a way that made him feel — accepted.

Welcomed, body and soul.

He couldn’t get enough of it.

The sight of her beneath him seemed so natural, until he wondered how she could feel so exhilarating and yet so comforting, as if familiar. She was clinging to him and responding eagerly, their bodies fitting together as if made for one another.

When she tightened her legs around him and began to arch off the table, he slowed his thrusts, intent on feeling as she throbbed around him. She softly sobbed his name as she fell apart, and he savored the look and feel of her, memorizing this first time.

Once she stilled he resumed moving above her, and held her gaze as he followed her over the edge, going deep as he shuddered. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been with someone, but he still knew it hadn’t been like this.

Nothing had ever been like this.

“Stay with me,” he whispered after several moments had passed in blissful silence. He slid a hand up her delicate throat, holding it as he nuzzled his nose into her hair. “Stay, Kitten.”

Only a minute passed before she cradled the back of his head, holding him to her as she lazily trailed her fingers through his hair. At her answer he felt his heart soar, a strange sense of belonging healing the loneliness in his soul.

“Yes, handsome. I will.”


End file.
